In nine weeks Charlie Miller's life goes from absolute perfection to gruesome tragedy. All it takes is one night, one blade, and her boyfriend, best friend and new friends all either end up as suspects or dead.
But Charlie's world of pro football golden boys, law school domination and New York City nightlife crumbles long before sudden death. Nate Westcott, a pierced, tattooed, charismatic lawyer, is a man she can’t have—but a seductive danger she can’t ignore. He’s cocky, infuriating, brilliant and wrong, making her question whether she really is the good girl she wants to be or more like the selfish killer everyone thinks she is.
And her body wants him in ways she’s not supposed to crave.
Despite her desire for it to be how it was during college, Charlie's changing, and so are the friends she thought she knew. Everyone she cares about is at risk because one of them has darkness lurking beneath, and if Charlie wants to survive, she must find that single, poisonous soul.
Because they want Charlie out of the way. And to succeed, they'll kill.
Start at the beginning. Question them all.
I wrapped my hands around the railings, iron framing my view as I watched them. I rested my forehead between the cold columns, feeling like an inmate forced to see the world from the inside.
Neither Lara nor Slade said anything. Nor did they pause for a picture or even acknowledge the requests.
But, I thought, neither bothered to correct them.
They believed Lara was me, that Slade was bringing his girlfriend with him even though players weren’t supposed to consort with their companions prior to a game.
But I shouldn’t rush to stupid thoughts—he probably offered her a ride, asked to drop her off somewhere rather than wasting money on a cab.
Yet the tug on my insides wasn’t regret or logic. It was, ever so slightly, jealousy. She was beautiful. She was with him. I was up here, curled up on the balcony and sporting terrycloth and stress pimples in the background.
He opened the door for her, and she swooped in with him following behind. The door slammed shut, and the car vroomed away from the curb, leaving the flashes, clicks and shouts behind.
I sagged against the bars, blowing out an annoyed, desolate sigh.
“Charlotte!”
I stiffened.
“I see you, girl! Down here!”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
I flipped to all fours, squeezing my eyes shut as though I could scrunch out what was happening, and crawled to the balcony door.
Please don’t have zoom capabilities.
“Charlotte! Why aren’t you with your boyfriend! Who’s the lady with him?”
Door. Get to the damn door.
“Charlotte! Charlotte! Char—”
Slam.
I shut the French doors, transforming the sounds from below into muffled murmurs, almost nonexistent.
And if I were to be honest with myself, I felt pretty nonexistent right now, too.
Ketley Allison is a twenty-something (maybe almost thirty-something) author who believes that supernatural love shouldn’t stop at eighteen. She began her career by writing books as birthday presents for her friends (with her friend as the main character and opposite a super sexy lead, of course) before ending it in order to walk down a path she thought she was supposed to follow.
The writing bug never left her—and, in fact, would often bleed into the official papers she was supposed to write—so now Ketley’s putting down her suit and finally following her dream. While her friends are no longer the stars of her books, she still throws in bits and pieces of them into each and every one of her characters.
As a result, her books tend to focus a lot on friendships as well as love, because let’s be honest, friends are what really get you through—especially when your epic love turns into epic heartbreak.
